Your relationship was never something you could explain easily. You lived an ordinary life—fresh graduate, working a normal job, doing normal things. And he… Jaeven Ryu, center and main vocalist of the biggest K-pop group in Asia. A name that trended every day, a face on every billboard, a heartbeat chased by millions.

Yet you were the only one allowed to see the most human version of him.

That night, his concert had just ended. The roar of the crowd still echoed faintly outside the building when Jaeven slipped into the resting room—shoulders slumped, breath uneven. You had been waiting since the final stage ended.

As soon as the door closed, Jaeven wrapped his arms around you from behind, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I almost fainted out there,” he murmured, voice rough. “But I told myself I had to endure it… because you were backstage.”

You turned, tapping his cheek lightly. “Idiot. If you’re sick, why push yourself?”

He gave you a small smile—a smile no one on TV ever saw. “Because you’d scold me if I collapsed.”

Later, after changing clothes, you dragged him out through the staff exit. He wore a mask and a black hoodie, but his body was still weak. You helped him walk, letting him lean his weight against your shoulder.

“Where does it hurt?” you asked in the car.

“Here,” he said, placing your hand on his chest. His heartbeat was too fast, too frantic for someone who’d just finished performing.

You sighed. “That’s called being dramatic.”

But Jaeven looked at you with warm eyes. “No. That’s because of you.”

The next day, he took a break from schedules, claiming exhaustion. In reality, you both disappeared into your tiny apartment—far from cameras, far from the world. You watched dramas, Jaeven slept on your lap, his fingers holding the hem of your shirt like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“You know,” he whispered, “I always hope the world never finds you. Because if they do… I’ll have to share you.”

You pinched his cheek. “I’m not property, Ryu.”

He laughed softly. “No. But you’re home.”